Of Ruin and Ash
by jessicalange
Summary: Love was a foreign thing to her, and yet now that she had gotten acid splashed in her face, Fiona seemed all so willing to give her all the love she had. Was this the price to pay for love?


Venus is her cat's name. She's a black kitten (which her mother never ceases to complain about - it's too _stereotypical_ for her), and as Cordelia always has, she finds a constant source of comfort in the pet over the days that pass. Venus seems to sense her pain and her loss, curling up to her. Cats are her favorite things, her favorite creatures; they are nonjudgmental and uncaring of what you do; if you give them the slightest bits of affection, they will return it tenfold, and all that is needed for them to survive and love you is food and sleep. Seeing as it's become clear that she is now completely unable to do what she loves most - crafting potions with liquids and powders in the middle of the night, she spends much of her time in the potions room nonetheless, feeding her flytraps and sitting in corners while Venus curls up in her lap.

It's comforting, the smell of the room. It's crisp, the smell of earth and fresh air - just like right after it rains. One night, she sits surrounded by vials and cauldrons; vials that do not sizzle and cauldrons that aren't boiling. The soothing weight of Venus is in her lap, as the cat tends to be clingier at night, and she does not mind that. She stays there for a long, uninterrupted stretch of time, and at one point she begins humming, stroking the kitten behind the ears. It takes her minutes to realize that she's humming You Are My Sunshine, something that causes her to whirl into old lost memories, the world disappearing around her.

Fiona might have been a neglectful mother, but at many points throughout Cordelia's childhood, she had proven to be capable of more love than Cordelia had ever imagined. She had sang the very same song to her at least twice or thrice throughout her young age, and those precious moments, however short-lasting, had stuck with her. She knew every lyric to the song, although she had not spoken them for years and years.

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine-you make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away. . ._"

Her breath hitches, and so does her voice. "The other night dear, as I lay sleeping-" Venus licks her hand when she stops. She feels like she can't breathe; she inhales sharply, trying to calm herself. _It's only a song_, she thinks, repeatedly, over and over again until she almost believes it. Almost. Not entirely. Yes, it's only a song; a song that can easily send her spiraling. She covers her mouth with three fingers, keeping in a whimper. How pathetic she must look; scarred, broken, ruined, crying. With nothing but a cat for company, because who else would keep her company? Who else would not care about her destroyed looks?

"You'll never know dear-" She stops. That's the wrong lyric. Her mother would lightly scold her for such a mistake. She knows better. But her mother is not here. She can make all the mistakes she likes. Cordelia clears her throat, swiping the back of a hand across her face. No matter all the other lyrics, those ones in particular had always _stayed_ with her. They were so untrue, and yet had the same effect on her as they would if they were true. She often imagined that her mother would watch her sleep, and wake her up to a gentle brush of lips to her forehead, and would sing her to sleep even when she wasn't distraught. She dreamt of a parent's love, and woke up to cold emptiness and a solid certainty that no, her mother would never, ever love her. But she could think it, couldn't see? Hope for it, wish for it?

The song had always been her comfort.

_You'll never know dear, how much I love you. . ._

But she _didn't_ know, because her mother hadn't ever loved her. Not until she had gotten badly hurt. Not until someone had splashed acid in her face. Not until she was _damaged_.

Her mother, if she were here, would tell her to stop crying. Cordelia wiped her eyes again and stood, reaching for her cane. Venus mewled in protest, and the blonde's face melted, and she shifted, kneeling to pick up the cat. "Let's go find you some leftovers, sweetling." She would take all the love she would get; she would grapple greedily for it, hang on to it until the threads snapped, and beg for more scraps. That's what she always had done, after all; at least, that would have been what she had done, if she had been braver as a child. But her mother hadn't had time to notice, instead engaging herself in liquor and pills.

It was funny how Fiona loved those little white capsules and tumblers of whiskey more than she loved her own daughter.


End file.
